


Some are born great, others achieve greatness

by NightingalesAndHandGrenades (Nightingalesandhandgrenades)



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Cannibalism, Character Death, F/F, F/M, M/M, Murder, Murder Husbands galore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-03 01:29:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17274533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightingalesandhandgrenades/pseuds/NightingalesAndHandGrenades
Summary: Will knows that his inner creature is calling out to Hannibal. It takes him a while to become comfortable, to reach out and touch the other one. It takes him a while to realise he is in love, and that he would not be able to tell Jack Crawford anything. He will just have to get used to Hannibal's little habit.





	1. Between iron and silver

**Author's Note:**

  * For [toffeecape](https://archiveofourown.org/users/toffeecape/gifts).



> This has been rattling around my brain for a while. It is a work in progress, and there will be a lot of smut...might be some angst. We shall see where the boys lead me. Comments and kudos appreciated.

_“Certain souls may seem harsh to others, but it is just a way, beknownst only to them, of caring and feeling more deeply.”_  
Marquis de Sade

It’s during the case of Douglas Wilson. Will follows and impulse and kisses Alana. It’s sweet, but it doesn’t do for him what he originally expected. They are friends, nothing more. The feeling of wrong burns in Will’s gut. He follows instinct and goes to Hannibal’s house. Their interaction is brief, and Will is not in his right mind to pay any attention to his surroundings. His brain is confused, clouded. But it’s not desire for Alana, it’s desire for clarity. For weeks his own body has been trying to communicate, and Will, running around like Jack’s toy poodle, wasn’t listening at all.

When he gets home, dogs pile around him wagging tails, and he lets the pack out, before allowing himself two fingers of whiskey and making up the fire. The house is dark, apart from the fireplace, casting spooky shadows on the walls. Will closes the door after the last dog comes back in, puts another log onto the fire, and sits down in front of it. Closes his eyes and lets the pendulum slowly swing.

The elk is there. He can hear its breath in the silence of the night air. But this time Will is not afraid of the creature. He turns around, and as with a horse, extends his hand to touch. One step. Two steps. Breath in…. and his fingers touch the animal’s fur. It’s softer than he imagined. Not as soft as Winston’s coat, but it feels somewhat comfortable under his fingers. He takes another step forward, and lies his forehead on the creature’s, closing his eyes and inhaling the scent of the wild beast in front of him.

_This is a design he wants to learn. He needs to know._

The pendulum swings again, and Will blinks, realising he’s still in Wolf Trap. There is a new clarity in his mind, although it’s still feverish and a little bit twitchy. 

Next time he sees Hannibal is in the carnage that is his office. There is a nasty cur on his face, his knuckles will need addressing, but he looks relieved seeing Will.

\- ‘’I thought you were dead,’’ he says, voice wavering just a little bit.

Will nods, wants to reach out and touch Hannibal’s shoulder, but Jack is still there, and it doesn’t feel quite right to do so just now. Will is a patient man, so he just offers Hannibal his company. The next few weeks move past in a blur. Will’s sub consciousness leads him to Hannibal’s waiting room, making him lose three and a half hours, but this time he is not surprised, although it is easy to keep playing the game of distress and fear. To be fair, Will is afraid. His brain is frying itself from inside out, and he knows Jack pulling him along is just making things worse. But there has to be more to this. So he reads. While he isn’t working on cases, he reads and reads, and gets to talk to a couple of doctors behind closed doors, masking it as case enquiry.

And then they find Nicholas Boyle. This is not the Ripper. This is sloppy and almost sad. It’s a butchery of a murder. Abigail. Will feels disappointed. Of all the stupid things the girl could have done, she chose to kill Boyle. Whether it was part of her nature taking hold…like Will’s does when he works… he doesn’t know and doesn’t care. What he does know is, that there is no way Hannibal doesn’t know this. 

The older man doesn’t look surprised to see him. It’s almost as if he had waited for this conversation. Will is disappointed with Hannibal, and he knows the other man can read his body language. He has to take a deep breath and weigh his words carefully, but Hannibal’s sudden presence in his peripheral vision takes Will’s breath away. Hannibal’s hand would be warm on his shoulder, but Will is wearing too many layers to really feel it. The older man’s body radiates warmth. Will subtly inhales his scent that is clove, saffron, a hint of sandalwood, and there is danger lurking just under the surface. He’s a hunter, a tracker, and an artists of the great hunt.

He turns towards Hannibal, his own hand covering the doctor’s fingers. They are so close now, and Will can see the little details on Hannibal’s tie. He swallows and brushes his lips against the older man’s. It’s chaste, and Hannibal’s eyes widen at that, his composure cracking for a tiny moment. Doctor’s eyes search Will’s face, and he seems to have found his answer, because their mouths meet again, and Hannibal pulls Will close, sneaking an arm around his waist.

This is going to be their design. 

They pull apart, breathing heavily, eyes dark. Will cups Hannibal’s cheek. This was the kiss he was looking for. The elk stands behind Hannibal- tall and proud, and Will knows this is where his mind and body was leading him. 

He is sure that his love for Hannibal started the second they first spoke. Like two wild beings they were pulled together, except Hannibal for some reason decided to dissect Will, to study him. Will just fell in love.


	2. Humanity is a cage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Making the mistake of kissing Alana is what eventually brings Will to some important conclusions about himself and his monster. And Hannibal is the perfect gentleman. Not that Will expected any less.

They stay close for a long time. Eventually, Hannibal guides Will to one of the sofas, and the younger man eagerly sinks down on it. His emotions are thrumming below the surface. He knows now, that Alana was an impulse. Hannibal is the real thing. Psychiatrist or no psychiatrist. 

‘’Will…’’ Hannibal eventually says, ‘’I hope this wasn’t another Alana moment’’.

Will feels himself blushing, and hides his face in the crook of Hannibal’s neck. He suddenly feels like he’s 15 again, and has been caught kissing Thomas Richardson behind the shed at school. Not that he ever was, because Thomas Richardson was an ass. He murmurs something, but Hannibal isn’t buying that. Instead he encourages Will to look up.

‘’That would be very rude. No. Alana was… a botched experiment. It was stupid in the first place, as you know. This… this is the real thing, Hannibal’’.

‘’William,’’ Hannibal’s voice has turned soft, and Will can see his struggle.

‘’Hannibal. I see you. I closed my eyes. And there you were’’.

Hannibal swallows almost audibly. Will’s face doesn’t show fear. He feels torn. He has been thinking of crafting Will into a beast in his own right, and now here he is. Without Hannibal’s involvement. But the younger man also presents a danger. 

‘’I know you’re the Ripper,’’ Will eventually says and Hannibal swallows everything he might have said on this occasion, trying to school his expression. ‘’I don’t care. I think I fell in love with you because of how comfortable you are in your own skin and with your nature’’.

‘’You play a dangerous game, darling,’’ Hannibal eventually finds voice to respond. ‘’I could kill you’’.

He doesn’t deflect, however, but neither he confirms. It’s better this way, where Will can call it a wild speculation and Hannibal in turn – an impossible accusation. The younger man doesn’t push for a definite answer. He shifts around, so he can straddle Hannibal, legs on both sides of his, cups his face and kisses him again. Hannibal groans into the kiss, pulling Will flush against himself, and grinding their hips together. The arousal that had somewhat dimmed, flares up with a renewed vigour. 

It has been a long time since Hannibal has been with a partner he considers an equal. He has never subscribed to labels that society wants to plaster on everyone. He like the beauty, he appreciates the better things in life. His choice of a partner, however short-lived the affair might have been, has always reflected that. Will is a completely different case. He is devilishly handsome, whip-smart and there is darkness about him Hannibal drinks in every time he speaks to the agent. He enjoys watching will deduce things about cases he works on, he loves watching everything fall away from the world while Will engages his empathy. He knows he could never kill Will. He wants to keep him all to himself and Jack Crawford can piss off.

‘’As much as I’m enjoying having you in my arms, darling,’’ Hannibal says between kisses, breath somewhat hitching from the arousal he can smell on both of them like thick, sweet honey from his homeland. ‘’This is not the best place. William. Stop.’’

It comes out harsher than Hannibal wants, but he holds Will still, hips locked in an iron grip. Will groans and rests his forehead on the older man’s shoulder, trying to not feel rejected. His rational mind understands that Hannibal is right, but years of self-loathing and conditioning to think of himself as damaged and as somewhat less still stab him with the feeling of rejection, he tries to mentally kick away before it takes hold. 

Hannibal watches the emotions play across Will’s face. Cups his face and kisses him softly.

‘’I want you very much, Will. I have wanted you since I first saw you in Jack Crawford’s office. You fascinate me, you intrigue me. But this isn’t the time nor the place for me to claim you as mine. It would be… distasteful’’.

‘’And Hannibal Lecter couldn’t afford to be tasteless,’’ Will says, sarcasm tinting his tone.

‘’There is no reason to be rude, William. Come to dinner. We’ll talk properly’.

‘’I’d like that,’’ Will agrees after a moment and disentangles himself from Hannibal.

As soon as Will gets up, Hannibal feels his loss. He wants nothing more than to pull the younger man back into his lap, shed his clothing and have Will right here. But he has neither supplies, nor it is an appropriate space for it. He prides himself as a man of principle. And having rushed sex in his office is out of question. Will is aroused, his pupils are still blown, his breathing heavy, although he is trying to regain composure. Hannibal stands somewhat stiffly, aware of his own arousal and the fact that hiding an erection in dress pants is almost impossible. Thankfully, the staff have already gone home, and there is nobody he could scandalise.

‘’I’ll drive,’’ he says, gathering his things.

When Will doesn’t respond, Hannibal looks up, searching the young man’s face. He looks unsure. Like he’s lost at sea, unsure what to do next. Hannibal thinks Will looks very young and very old at the same time in a moment like this. Like the world is a weight on his shoulders, and he is afraid to open Hannibal’s office door in case whatever just happened was just an imagination. Another illusion his brain is so capable of these days. It is a glimpse into the Will Graham people like Jack never see.

 _I will not let him destroy you,_ Hannibal vows, picking up his briefcase, coat and car keys. He steps around the desk, turns off the light and reaches Will in a couple of steps, touching his shoulder, startling him.

‘’I meant what I said, Will. Dinner. Movie. You’ve been under a lot of stress lately. Come on, let me take care of you’’.

Will nods and leans in for a kiss that Hannibal happily grants him. Their relationship has changed. There is no going back from this point. Hannibal knows he will kill Will if the other man ever decides to leave. Not just because he knows and suspects too much. But also because Hannibal could not live without his little creature. 

The ride to Hannibal’s home sees them caught in traffic that Hannibal was looking to avoid. It gives him time to think, however, and simply enjoy closeness to the FBI agent sitting in the passenger seat of the Bentley. 

‘’You have to tell Abigail that I know about Boyle,’’ Will finally says when Hannibal indicates for a turn to his house. ‘’It was sloppy work, Hannibal. She butchered him. And took pleasure in it’’.

He doesn’t sound angry or scared. Just tired and resentful, and, Hannibal thinks, that is somehow worse. He had his own hopes for Abigail’s future, but her impulsiveness might see those hopes destroyed. 

‘’I have already spoken to Abigail,’’ he says, accent thickening when distaste creeps into his tone. ‘’I am as disappointed in her actions as you are. She understands the consequences’’.

Will nods, and reaches out to squeeze Hannibal’s tight. He cannot tell Jack, that’s for sure. If Jack figures it out in his own way, Will will not be able to deny it, and he wants to make it clear to Hannibal as well. He won’t deny it, but he will deny this conversation ever happened. His feeling of responsibility over Abigail has somewhat diminished. The guilt is still there, but it’s peeling away slowly, like paint from an old wall. 

He has been to Hannibal’s house before, but somehow this time feels different. No, it is different. Hannibal gets rid of his coat and Will’s jacket, washes his hands and starts preparing dinner. He finds a roasting tin, and while it gets hot on the hob, and puts on an apron. This is Hannibal’s entertainment space. His palace where nobody else gets to be the king. Will used to feel like he was intruding. Not tonight. 

‘’Can I help?’’

Hannibal looks up and smiles. Even this sharing of his kitchen is intimate. They have shared spaces for a while now, but this is Hannibal’s most sacred space apart from his dining room. He hands Will spring onions and a knife.

‘’I though jerk chicken tonight. Quick and simple, yet sophisticated. Please chop these’’ Hannibal says and Will nods, setting to work after he washes his own hands. 

Hannibal excuses himself and goes to find wine. It doesn’t take him long to find the right bottle. Fruity, celebratory, a little erotic. He pours himself and Will a glass. 

‘’I don’t know anything about wine,’’ the younger man says, almost apologetic, wiping his hands on a towel and taking the glass from Hannibal, his fingers lingering for a second.  
‘’There is no reason I can see for you to not be able to learn, Will,’’ his companion says, humour dancing in his eyes, as he returns to browning the meat. ‘’This is a Riesling from the region of Alsace. Cloves, cinnamon and nutmeg, a balance between the fruit flavours, sweetness and acidity ideal for jerk seasoning’’.

Will snorts and takes a sip. The wine is good, and he appreciates the show element of Hannibal in the kitchen.

‘’Do you even hear yourself talk? You should have your own tv show or something,’’ he says, setting the glass down and returning to the chopping board and handing Hannibal the onion. ‘’Teach a bunch of pretentious idiots how to make truffle oil…or whatever. How much did you even pay for this?’’

‘’I’m not sure my tastes are cut out for mass consumption,’’ Hannibal throws back nonchalantly. ‘’I believe that it is worth investing in a good wine that goes well with food. It’s a complex symphony that plays out on your pallet’’.

‘’A little more complex than a frozen dinner I guess,’’ Will teases and Hannibal smiles, pouring the jerk sauce. He scatters the sliced spring onions, then tosses to coat each piece of meat, and puts it in the oven before turning to look at Will.

‘’I’m sure I can help you cure your bad eating habits. You need to be more careful of what you put inside yourself. It has an impact on your physical and mental well-being’’.  
‘’My dogs eat better than I do,’’ Will admits, cheeks turning pink under the other man’s scrutiny.

He reaches out a hand to pull the younger man close and leans down for a kiss. Their height difference is not that big, so it’s comfortable. Will tastes of wine, arousal and relaxation. His shoulders aren’t tense, the iron grip he has on his movement somewhat lax. He’s willingly stepped into the layer of the beast, and Hannibal has to admit he respects Will’s trust in him. 

‘’Let me put on the rice. Would you mind taking the coconut milk and kidney beans out of the fridge, please?’’

Will nods and steps away, missing Hannibal’s warmth. He hasn’t been so close to another human being in a very long time. To be fair, Will doesn’t even remember his last relationship. Only that it was brief and uneventful, since the other side was incapable of handling Will’s strangeness and his empathy disorder.

Hannibal goes about making the rest of the dish. He finds another pan, brings it to the boil with the liquid from the beans and the coconut milk. Adds spring onions, thyme, garlic, allspice and a little bit of salt, then simply leaves it to simmer. There are a few last steps till they can eat.

‘’It smells good,’’ Will comments, sneaking arms around Hannibal’s waist and resting his cheek on the older man’s back.

He feels like they have been together forever. It’s all probably highly inappropriate, too quick, and Will mentally tries to prepare himself for the blow of Hannibal saying as much and stepping away. He has made this mistake in the past. Becoming attached and involved with someone too quickly. He chases the comfort he feels simply because there is not enough of it in his life. Will Graham is definitely touch-starved and lonely. Except he cannot stand touching most people, avoids eye contact because eyes distract him too much, and physical closeness to someone is something he struggles with on a daily basis. Hannibal is different. Hannibal feels familiar, and Will thinks that it might be the darkness he sees simmering under Hannibal’s skin, in the irises of his eyes and the corners of his mouth. He is a beautiful and intelligent man, and Will normally is not their type. He lacks finesse, has no aptitude for large social gatherings, hates parties, and finds comfort in canines more than in humans.

However, Hannibal Lecter lives to surprise people. He makes sure the beans are added, turns the heat down, and wipes his hands and turns around to elope Will in a hug, pressing a kiss to his forehead. There is no rush even though Hannibal feels arousal thrumming under his fingertips as he brushes them over Will’s shoulders and back. His own arousal is there too, but over the years, Hannibal has learned to control his own impulses and needs. Will might be the greatest exercise in self-control in quite a long time. 

‘’We have a couple of minutes before dinner. Would you lay the table, please?’’ Hannibal’s voice is husky in his ear, making a shiver run through Will.

The food is great, wine superb, and they have a simple conversation that flows easily. Not about anything of importance. It’s small-talk, but it works. They clear dishes away, standing side by side in the same easy comfort. Hannibal’s hand on the small of Will’s back stops him from wiping the place.

‘’Let me take you to bed, Will,’’ the older man’s voice is like molasses to Will’s ears. He’s tipsy, but not drunk, his arousal flares once again, but Will isn’t sure that he’s ready for sex. He puts the towel and the plate down, and takes Hannibal’s hand, following him upstairs.

‘’Your house is just ridiculous, do you know that?’’ he asks to distract himself from feeling nervous.

‘’I enjoy beauty in many of its forms, Will. This is simply another indulgence of mine’’.

Hannibal’s bedroom is nothing Will has imagined before. It’s big, but not stuffy. It has artwork on the walls, cosy chairs, and a fireplace. The windows are big and Will thinks they must let in a lot of light during the day. He wants to stay long enough to find out.

''No TV?'' he teases, and Hannibal smiles.

''I do not particularly care for television before rest. I read and listen to music. Television is far too much of a sensory overload before you want your brain to shut off and relax''.   
Will suddenly feels like a teenager again. His arms and legs feel too long, and he fidgets, not knowing what to do. Hannibal's fingers stop his from picking at his shirt, and Will sighs. Those same fingers that he now knows can kill and gut a man, unbutton his shirt, open his trousers and encourages him to step out of his clothes.

''I think sleeping is in order,'' Hannibal’s' voice washes over him, and Will sets on the side of the bed, wearing nothing but his boxers and socks.

''Hannibal...'' he swallows, taking in the sight in front of him while Hannibal undresses, carefully folding his and Will's clothing.

''Darling, don’t fret,’’ the older man soothes, stepping close to Will, leaving his own boxers on.

Hannibal Lecter is a beautiful creature. Will drinks in the sight of his arms, flat stomach and muscular legs. Will swallows back a groan, when his eyes stop at the dark hair disappearing under the waistband of his boxers. He suddenly wants to bury his face is Hannibal’s groin, and kiss him there. Hannibal cups his face and raises his chin up to lean down for a kiss that tastes of wetness and the underlying tones of Hannibal himself. 

Will snuggles close as soon as Hannibal gets into bed with him, basking in his warmth, using the other man’s chest as a pillow. His fingers idly toy with the hair he finds there and for a while they are both silent, just enjoying the moment.

‘’Have you,’’ Will starts the sentence, but then falls silent before finishing it. ‘’Have you had many lovers in this bed?’’

Hannibal’s fingers tighten on the nape of Will’s neck, his other hand not stopping its lazy exploration of his lover’s body. Lovers. Hannibal is not ashamed to call them that. He feels fiercely protective of Will in his own way, and this development might have shattered his original plans, but he always has a backup.

‘’Some. Not many,’’ he admits, kissing Will’s curls, feeling his cheeks go pink. ‘’Sex is an important part of human nature, Will. Not just for mating and procreating reasons. Most people do it for pleasure, do they not?’’

‘’I’m…I’m not an expert,’’ Will’s voice is quiet, shy as if he’s ashamed.

‘’One does simply become an expert in a field where no such thing exists. There are hundreds of different ways people come together to enjoy and give pleasure. As long as it is consensual and both partners have discussed their likes and dislikes, there is nothing to be ashamed of’’.

‘’Did you always new you were, um…’’

‘’Did I always know I was attracted to men and women? I suppose I did. In my homeland it was not something people discussed when I was young, so my only knowledge of such things came later. When I learned I appreciate human beauty regardless of their sex or gender’’.

‘’I never told my dad I like boys as well as girls,’’ Will says, voice becoming almost a whisper. ‘’He would have killed me most likely’’.

Hannibal doesn’t want to dwell on these matters now. He finds homophobia rude and tasteless, leaving a sour taste in his mouth every time he has to mention a word to a patient.   
‘’Sleep, dearest. We can re-visit this conversation in the morning, if it bothers you’’ he simply says and Will burrows closer as if he wants to crawl under Hannibal’s skin.

Hannibal waits till the younger man’s breathing evens out before he allows himself to succumb to sleep. Tomorrow will come, and tomorrow they will deal with the world of Jack Crawford and the FBI.


	3. Reality check

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.”   
> ― Carl Gustav Jung

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated. [I'm on tumblr](http://nightingalesandlions.tumblr.com) come say hi.

Will wakes when the sun starts shining into the bedroom, and Hannibal isn’t next to him. The sheets still smell like the other man, still hold his warmth. Will is content to stay in bed a while longer, before he gets dragged back into the real world. Perhaps they could treat this like a long weekend, and not leave the house at all. Jack can wait and let other people do some work. Eventually Will drags himself out of the comfort of Hannibal’s expensive sheets, uses the bathroom and finds his clothes from the previous day. 

He almost gets lost on his way downstairs, but the smell of coffee and jazz music playing guides him to the kitchen.

‘’Good morning, Will,’’ Hannibal is impeccably dressed and Will thinks it should be a crime to look this good this early in the morning. 

‘’I’m disappointed that you’re not wearing a jacket,’’ Will mutters, and ducks his head when Hannibal glares at him sharply.

‘’Did you sleep well?’’ a change of subject completely, but there is coffee, and Hannibal leans in for a kiss Will eagerly accepts.

‘’Yes, thank you. Your bed is fantastic’’.

‘’I’m glad you enjoyed it’’.

They fall silent while Hannibal finishes making breakfast and retire to the dining room which somehow seems bare without distinguished dinner guests. Will gladly sinks into this bliss, but it is short-lived. His phone rings when Will is in his second cup of coffee. It’s Jack. Of course it’s Jack. Nobody really calls Will unless it’s Hannibal or work related.

‘’Jack,’’ Will’s voice is even when he eventually picks up the phone.

Although Hannibal doesn’t hear what the other man is saying, Will pushes his chair away from the table, looking apologetic, but Hannibal just waves him off. Will smiles, nods and walks to the living room, while rapidly firing questions at his phone. Hannibal hasn’t seen Will so clear and concentrated in weeks. He finishes his own coffee, and clears the breakfast table.

‘’I’m sorry,’’ Will’s voice suddenly rings in the kitchen. ‘’I have to go’’.

‘’I have to see patients,’’ Hannibal says. ‘’Your car is still at my office. Come, I’ll give you a ride’’.

Will nods, but doesn’t move out of the way, stopping the other man for a kiss. This new boldness is something Hannibal finds very pleasing, and he pushes Will against the door frame, deepening the kiss. When they break apart, Hannibal’s eyes are dark with lust, and Will’s breath is ragged.

‘’I would like nothing more than to tell Jack to do his own job, and take you back to bed,’’ Hannibal murmurs, kissing Will’s jaw and biting his earlobe gently, eliciting a moan from the younger man.

‘’I don’t think Jack would approve of your…hm…methods,’’ Will says, moving his head to give Hannibal a better access. 

The older man sighs, plants one last sloppy kiss on Will’s neck and pulls back, reigning himself in. Will finds his things, and takes his jacket from Hannibal, following him out of the house and to the car. They don’t speak during the ride. Will can’t think of anything meaningful to say, and idle chatter doesn’t seem to be suitable for this situation. Hannibal stays silent, concentrating on the road. His mind is already planning the day ahead, even though it will no doubt be very boring. 

When they arrive and Hannibal parks, Will touches his arm.

‘’Thank you for last night. And this morning’’.

‘’You are welcome, Will. Anytime’’. 

What else can he say? _‘’I’m in love with you and would kill for you, but please don’t tell Jack’’?_ No, there is nothing else he can say, so they sit in silence for a few minutes, till Will’s phone rings again.

‘’Right. Crime scene. Jack. ‘’ the agent mutters to himself, kissing Hannibal earnestly and climbing out of the car. ‘’I’ll call you this evening?’’

‘’I’m looking forward to it,’’ Hannibal nods, and sits in his Bentley while Will disappears.

Hannibal takes a deep breath, inhaling Will’s scent that still lingers in the air. Something with a ship on it. He’ll need something better for next Christmas. Compared to last night, today is definitely going to be boring. 

The weather is bleak. Late autumn, winter and early spring always takes away the colour, leaving the most basic of tones. It’s not very cold, but there is a hint of cold humidity in the air. The winter sun comes out, but even that doesn’t really brighten the days up a lot. It’s just a waiting game before spring arrives with its own colours and sounds.

Will reaches the crime scene, and already regrets not calling in sick. It’s nothing remarkable. It sounded more exciting on the phone. Compared to their last cases, this one seems somewhat boring. He probably shouldn’t be thinking that at a crime scene. 

‘’You’re late,’’ Jack remarks, looking Will up and down, his eyes narrowing.

‘’I’m here,’’ Will throws back and turns back to the scene.

He has to think about Abigail and Boyle. Maybe every murder will now make him think of that. But this is sloppy work. Almost opportunistic. Boring. As if the killer had just done it to shut the victim up. A young man in his twenties. Will closes his eyes and lets the world fall away. The pendulum swings, and he doesn’t hear the buzz of detectives or Jack anymore. He sees their victim being killed step by step. His throat slit, life slowly seeping away. The killer leaning down and sniffing its victim, and then putting its mouth to the victim’s neck. 

Will opens his eyes and looks down. Teeth marks on the neck. Scratch marks on the completely naked torso. Animalistic. Primitive. An experiment, perhaps.

‘’I think it’s one of the first kills,’’ Will quietly says when Jack steps forward again. ‘’He will kill again’’.

‘’What makes you say that? How do you know it’s a he?’’ 

‘’The way he killed this man… it’s sloppy, experimental. Like he’s looking for his own signature, but hasn’t made a definite decision. Perhaps this is not the first kill, perhaps this is one of experiments. It might be a woman, but she would have to possess quite some muscles or body strength to be able to take a man down this way’’.

‘’How do we find the killer then?’’

‘’I don’t know. Yet’’.

Jack nods and motions for the crew to pack things up. Will sighs too but in frustration, feeling a headache brewing at the base of his skull. It is going to be a long day. Jack hates when Will doesn’t have ready-made answers for him. This is one of those occasions where Will needs time. And the lab team need to do their jobs. 

He waves off the offer for a ride back to the lab. Some alone time will probably do him good before facing Jack again. His mind once again turns to Abigail. He can’t tell Jack. He wouldn’t tell Jack. But his instinct is to sever ties with her now while he is still capable. He can now admit that the feelings towards Abigail were fatherly because he felt responsible for leaving her father-less. He sits in the FBI carpark for a moment, closing his eyes and letting the pendulum swing. Garret Jacob Hobbs is no longer behind his closed eyelids. 

Now there is Hannibal.

The day drags on without much progress one the case. Around four, Will finally heads off. There is nothing more he can do at the lab, and the excuse of his dogs always works on Jack, since the man pretends to try and keep Will’s sanity intact . You don’t use your best bloodhound to track down your missing cat. 

The dogs greet Will with happy yaps, and he strokes all of them in turn, then letting the pack out before they get dinner. This is routine. It’s the normalcy he needs to feel that his feet are actually touching the earth beneath. Will takes off his jacket after the dogs come back in, and makes a mental note to look for fosters for some of them. He loves his dogs dearly, but he also understands, that he will not be able to take care of them forever. It’s not fair to himself or the dogs. With the frequency of himself working with Jack, being away from the house, he cannot always find a dog sitter on a short notice. He can’t leave them on their own either. 

Wolf Trap is quiet. Will makes up the fire and finally looks at his phone. The lab has been busy, so he hasn’t had the time to actually call Hannibal. There is a missed call, but Will doesn’t know if he wants to call back. This is usually one of the times Hannibal actually sees patients, keeping his office hours longer on some days to accommodate people who work during the day, but still want therapy. Instead he sends off a text which is unlike himself.

_Hey. Sorry about the radio silence. Jack was running us around._

He swears he isn’t anxious while waiting for the phone to ping. But it doesn’t take Hannibal long to reply.

_Good evening, Will. I am glad you reached out. I was starting to worry. Is it an interesting case?_

Will pours himself a drink and sits down again before replying. He has never been partial to texting. He is now, apparently.

_Since when do you text, Doctor Lecter? Don’t you have patients to see?_

The silence stretches out, but if Will closes his eyes, he can imagine Hannibal smiling while a boring patient is going on about their issues. He shouldn’t be so cynical towards people who seek Hannibal’s help, but he can’t help it.

_There is a patient in front of me, and his personal life is very boring. He should be leaving very soon._

Will smiles, and fidgets before deciding what to say. He can’t really say anything important over text messages. Not even phone. Will Graham is an FBI agent, he knows that in case of suspicion, everything he has said publicly will be used against him. Paranoia? Very much so. 

_I hope he hasn’t bored you too much to fall asleep behind the wheel driving home, Doctor. That would be a great shame._

He sends it and straight away wants to take it back. Sometimes talking to Hannibal is like playing ‘the floor is lava’, and although facial expressions and body language helps in those situations, texting does not offer him the same comforts. He never knows whether he’s said too much to Hannibal, his mouth often running before the brain can catch it. He starts to think that he has said too much, but then his phone rings. Will takes a deep breath and presses the button, putting the phone to his ear.

‘’William’’.

Hannibal’s voice is warm and rich like molasses and honey in his ear and Will shivers involuntarily. 

‘’Hi….’’ he breathes out, not sure what to say. ‘’Is your patient gone or are you hiding in the bathroom?’’

Apparently his brain is now in that kind of mood, and he curses himself. Hannibal, however, must see the amusement in that question because he can hear the other man smile.

‘’Yes, thankfully he is gone. I am just gathering my things before heading home’’.

‘’Thanks for calling. The case is boring. Savage. But not intricate or even interesting’’.

‘’ I assume you have returned home,’’ he hears rustling in the background, Hannibal putting on his ridiculously expensive coat no doubt.

‘’Yes. The fire is going, dogs are fed and watered…’’

‘’Have you eaten?’’

‘’Yes’’.

He knows he answers a little too quickly for Hannibal to really believe him. To honest, Will doesn’t really know when he last ate apart from breakfast this morning. He remembers vending machine coffee and a chocolate bar, but that might have been last week. Eating and sleeping are two things he puts on the back burner when working. His brain has been unwell, making the latter very difficult without time jumps and nightmares.

‘’I would feel happier if you had dinner, Will’’. 

Hannibal sounds concerned, and Will doesn’t like that tone of voice. He knows Hannibal is a professional of faking concern. He’s a psychotherapist after all. However, Will can also detect undercurrents and subtle notes in his voice, which make him feel concern from Hannibal rather than just hear it.

‘’I’ll put something together. You don’t have to worry about me, Doctor Lecter’’.

‘’I always worry about you, Will’’.

‘’I’ll eat, I promise. Go home. Drink wine. Do… whatever it is you do in the evening’’.

‘’May I call you later?’’

Hannibal sounds hopeful, and will hears the key turn in the door which means that Hannibal is locking up and heading out. He doesn’t really want the conversation to end. They need to talk about important things. Decisions Will cannot make alone, and decisions he cannot ask about over the phone. He feels too tired to engage his brain in doubt tonight.   
He just wants to listen to Hannibal talk.

‘’If you promise to read me a bed time story’’.

He teases, but Hannibal chuckles. 

‘’I will. Eat something, please. I will call you when I get home’’.

The phone clicks and Will sighs. There is a silly smile on his face, and he doesn’t remember when that last happened. It would be so easy to just fall into this routine with Hannibal. Dinner, spending the night, going to work, calling one another during lunch break. Will feels something akin to longing when he thinks about that. Life has never been that simple for Will Graham. Especially when he’s in love with someone like Hannibal Lecter.

Love. 

Will gulps. It’s not the first time he’s thought of that. However, it seems more real than it did mere 24 hours ago. He thought for a while he loved Alana. That turned out to be a simple attraction to a friend. This is different. Fate has a very warped sense of humour. Will thought that this normally was a Hollywood blockbuster plot – an FBI agent falling in love with a serial killer. Apparently it’s his life. 

‘’All right gang, you heard the good doctor,’’ he eventually says, getting up.

Winston raises his head, but Will just motions for the dog to stay. If he had to keep just one of them, it would be Winston. He’s the newcomer, but has taken to Will as pack Alpha almost instantly. 

The contents of Will’s fridge are sad. There is a bottle of beer he takes out and opens, taking a swing. There is half a lemon, a batch of dog food, a bottle of ketchup and a piece of cheese. Will sighs and nibbles on the cheese while inspecting the contents of his freezer. It almost seems like he’s been on a vacation, or on a hunger strike. What has he really been eating? Maybe Hannibal’s concern is justified after all.

He digs through half empty packets of peas and broccoli and praises God if God exists. Will is a fisherman, and believes he knows how to do it right and do it well. Normally his catch gets consumed quite quickly. For some reason he’s frozen some of it. So fish it is. Hannibal would be proud. It’s sizzling away in the pan when Hannibal calls again. Will wipes his hands, and balances the phone between his ear and his shoulder.

‘’Are you home?’’ he blurts out, before he can actually think, the combination of beer and whiskey making him a little buzzed.

‘’Hello again, Will. Yes, I have now settled down in the living room with my sketch book and a glass of wine. Have had dinner?’’

‘’Stop nagging, Mom. Yes, it’s in progress. It’s a little bit sad, but it’s food’’.

Hannibal makes a disapproving sound, and Will feels scolded even though the other man hasn’t even said anything.

‘’I will have to make sure your kitchen is re-stocked properly,’’ the older man eventually says as if he was simply making a mental note.

‘’Or I could just eat at your place,’’ Will mutters under his breath, but of course Hannibal doesn’t miss that.

‘’I would love nothing more than to see you properly fed, Will. You are too thin, and lack of proper nutrition will not help you get healthy again,’’ Hannibal says, with a hint of smile in his voice. ‘’But we both know that it will have to wait mainly for practical reasons’’.

‘’Do you possess superhuman hearing or something?’’

‘’Our senses can be trained to become more acute. Humans used to stalk their pray to make sure their tribe eats. Modern human has lost this ability due to our surroundings changing’’.

‘’Except you…’’

‘’Contrary to what I would like to believe, Will, I am not unique. I simply like to keep my senses sharp’’.

Because you’re a hunter, Will mentally adds.

He takes the pan off the stove and digs out a plate and finishes his beer. 

‘’I shall leave you to dinner, Will. Will I see you tomorrow?’’

Will thinks for a moment. Oh. Their usual appointment evening. Is that professional? He knows he wants to see Hannibal, but if Jack sniffs out that there is something going on between the two of them, Will might have to find another psychiatrist.

‘’Yes. Yes, I’ll be there,’’ he says, pushing that thought away for a later examination.

‘’Very well. I will see you tomorrow evening then. Good night Will, Bon Appétit’’.

‘’Night, Hannibal.’’

He puts his phone down and sighs. The food doesn’t really feel appetising. He just feels exhausted. Wolf Trap used to mean comfort and safety. It feels more like an empty shell now, and if it wasn’t for his little family of strays, he would feel lost.

This attachment he suddenly discovered…attachment to Hannibal, is unsustainable. Two people cannot be one another’s entire world all the time. Especially two people who are as opposite in everything they do as him and Hannibal. 

‘’Your life is a mess, Will Graham’’.

His dinner is left uneaten, and Will drags himself over to the fire, puts more logs on it, then curls up on the sofa under a blanket and closes his eyes in a futile attempt to have a night of un-interrupted sleep. He misses Hannibal’s bed and his presence, and it’s like a pulsating open wound. Maybe he’s been dependant on Hannibal Lecter for a while now, but, honestly, Will cannot bring himself to be angry at Hannibal’s manipulation or how easily he fell into the trap.


	4. Lullay, mine liking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal is committed to look after Will. His agenda might have shifted, but now he also sees clearly why it did.

Waking up is a slow process. It’s still dark outside, but there is a light on in his kitchen, and the dogs aren’t around him anymore. He doesn’t remember whether he left the light on or not, but as soon as he thinks of that, Hannibal appears in the doorway, and that answers all the questions. Will’s brain is still a bit blurry, his stomach is cramping from the lack of food, and he feels slightly nauseous from dehydration. He tries to speak, but it comes out croaky, and Hannibal crosses the room with a glass of orange juice in his hand.

‘’I’m disappointed in you, William,’’ he quietly says, sitting down on the edge of the sofa and making sure Will doesn’t drink the cold juice too quickly. ‘’We had a conversation last night, and you reassured me you would eat’’.

‘’What are you, my mother?’’ he shoots back, instantly regretting his choice of words and tone.

Hannibal frowns disapprovingly, takes the glass from him and presses a kiss to his forehead.

‘’No, I am most certainly not. I am, however, concerned. Your well-being is important to me, Will. If I’m not there to make sure you are looking after yourself, I want to make sure you actually do. Now come, I brought breakfast’’.

He stands and heads to the kitchen. Will groans and gets up, his body feeling a little better. Hannibal has made himself at home in the kitchen, discarding last night’s un-eaten dinner, and feeding his dogs. Somehow Will had not imagined Hannibal with dog hair on his expensive suit, but the man seems at ease. He feeds Winston some sausage that Will thinks could be a terrible waitress at a bistro who splashed coffee on Hannibal’s shirt. He finds that it doesn’t bother him. It should. It really should send Will running for the hills, but it doesn’t.

There are scrambled eggs with sausage and bacon, coffee, more orange juice and fresh fruit. Hannibal is slicing an apple when Will hugs him from behind, almost tentatively.

‘’I’m sorry. I was rude,’’ he murmurs, rubbing his cheek against the material of Hannibal’s waistcoat.  ‘’Thank you for coming. Thank you for breakfast’’.

Hannibal puts the knife down and turns around to hug Will back, pressing a kiss to his heated forehead.

‘’I worry about you, Will. You clearly haven’t been well. Not having proper nutrition will only slow your recovery process down. I would rather not delay it any more than it has already bee delayed’’.

‘’But you facilitated it as soon as you caught it,’’ the younger man says, sighing and stepping away.

‘’I realise that at some point my actions were not altruistic. However, many things have changed between us in a very short space of time, and I assure you, I take care of those whom I treasure Will. And I treasure you’’.

Will’s shoulders slump, and he sits down, waiting for Hannibal to join him. They eat in silence, and Hannibal notes how thin his lover is. He is muscular, beautifully sculpted, but too thin. There are circles under Will’s eyes Hannibal doesn’t like, and he’s more open about his thoughts which is a clear sign that Will Graham is not well. In another life, Hannibal would have been intrigued. He would have wanted to see how far he can push this man with the brain so like his own. Now, however, he realizes that that desire has morphed and changed.

Will doesn’t question food on his plate, digging in like a starving man, and Hannibal has to ask him to slow down to avoid his body becoming overwhelmed.

‘’How did I survive before your cooking?’’ Will asks, chewing on a piece of pineapple afterwards, and Hannibal smiled, clearly pleased.

‘’I wonder about that myself, darling’’.

‘’Smug bastard,’’ Will says, trying to look scandalised, but failing.

There is also no real heat in his words. He feels better. Not quite whole yet, but better. He knows that food will kick in quite soon, and he will be sleepy. Not enough to nap, but enough to lie down.

‘’Don’t you have patients to see?’’ he asks out of curiosity, and looks at the stash of casefiles on the living room coffee table.

‘’I have cancelled my appointments for today. Apart from my own therapy session this evening’’.  

‘’A shrink with a shrink?’’

‘’Every psychotherapist needs his or her own help, Will. It’s not uncommon’’.

‘’No… but it’s hard to imagine you opening up to someone…a stranger’’.

‘’Bedelia is not a stranger to me, Will. She has been my therapist for a number of years’’.

Will just raises an eyebrow. Hannibal sounds fond of her, and he is rarely fond of anybody. Not that Will would really know, considering he has not known this man for years. Is there more? Should he really care if there is more?

‘’I can see the wheels turning in your head, Will’’.

‘’Just…thinking, really. I need to look at the case we caught yesterday… but I don’t think I can bear going to the office. So work from home with dogs Will it is. Will you stay?’’

He does not, absolutely _does not_ sound needy. Or hopeful. He also hopes he has dodged the bullet of Hannibal’s questioning, and they can move on without causing a scene. And maybe Will can stop thinking about Hannibal fucking his psychiatrist.

‘’Of course. I brought some reading material, and there is a research paper I’ve been looking forward to. So maybe we can both work for a while and then perhaps go for a walk with your dogs’’.

Will does a double take at that. How is this man even real? A couple of weeks ago he might have ended up on Hannibal’s dining table, and not because of hot and messy post-dinner sex. Now he is here and is completely fine with going out with dogs, and sells this idea to Will as if they had done so a thousand times.

‘’I’m going to grab a shower. Call Jack. And…’’ he waves his hand about, and Hannibal nods.

‘’Go. I’ll make up the fire’’.

And Will goes. Upstairs to clean up and think. He showers quickly, and calls Jack. He is not well, so there is no lie in saying that he is going to work on the case from home. Yes, his phone is on and he can accept calls and photos. No, he doesn’t need Beverly to come around to his place, thank you very much.

He returns to the living room to find Hannibal comfortable in the corner of the sofa, Winston at his feet, reading something on his tablet. House smells of coffee, no, it smells of good coffee. It’s so… domestic. And normal. And Will almost wants to cry because he hasn’t had anything resembling normal in a very long time. He commits this picture to memory, and sets out to work on the case, trying to keep Jack updated just enough.

The killer doesn’t really hold his interest much. He knows that a case like this should be open and shut in a very short space of time.

He doesn’t look at the clock for several hours, but when he does, his back cracks, and Hannibal looks up at Will’s groan. He looks at the clock and stands, walking to where Will has spread out all the materials. His hair is mussed, he had glasses on and there is a frown on his face. He makes a startled sound when Hannibal touches him, but his shoulders relax when the other man kisses his neck and his fingers dig into the muscles of his shoulders.

‘’Any progress?’’

Will just shrugs. This case is not the hardest he’s worked, but he is not making enough progress to his or Jack’s liking. Mostly because there isn’t a lot to go on, and getting more information would mean that the killer would have to kill again.

Hannibal sucks on his neck lightly and Will melts. He’s ready for a break, and the dogs whine impatiently.

‘’You said something about a walk,’’ he murmurs, reaching back and pulling Hannibal close.

‘’I did,’’ the other man says, but doesn’t make any attempts to move.

They stay like that for a while, interrupted by a phone call. It’s Hannibal’s this time, and he frowns at the offending piece of technology. However, it looks important, since he excuses himself to answer it.

‘’I’m sorry, our walk will have to wait. That was one of my patients. He’s requesting an emergency session’’.

Hannibal looks apologetic and disappointed, but Will understands emergencies better than anyone. His own phone rings just as Hannibal is putting on his coat. There is another body, and that means that the peace and quiet of the morning is over. Will grabs his own things, and finds his car keys. Kisses Hannibal, lingering for a moment, and then pushes him towards the Bentley.

‘’Go, don’t make clients wait. Mine doesn’t care,’’ he says, half-joking and Hannibal nods.

‘’I’ll call you as soon as I’m free,’’ he promises.

‘’I’m a big boy, Doctor Lecter, I can take care of myself’’.

Hannibal doesn’t have time to argue. Will knows that. Cunning boy. He’ll have to use different methods to his stubborn lover, if he wants to have a real and long-lasting impact. Otherwise, maybe light corporal punishment would do.

Will hums to himself driving to the crime scene. He likes…no loves Hannibal’s cooking, it’s kept him going the entire morning. Not to mention that the coffee had been amazing. He likes being pampered just a little bit even if he doesn’t deserve it. Maybe a little manipulation from Hannibal is an honest price to pay for everything he receives in return. And what he can offer is a secret that is kept under lock and key for as long as they both shall live.


	5. Separation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is something watching him. Will doesn't believe in the paranormal, but there is something akin to fear sitting at the base of his skull and making him uneasy.

This time the killer has struck a young woman in her mid-twenties. It’s another carnage of a kill, and Will doesn’t really have a lot to add before the coroner’s office has done its job. He lets the crime scene sing into his skin, and closes his eyes to the familiar swing of the pendulum. What he sees is ugliness, desperation and something…. Something else pulsating under the skin of the faceless killer.

‘’He wants to be great,’’ Will whispers. ‘’He wants to be the greatest of them all, but he doesn’t quite know how’’.

He opens his eyes and moves towards Jack.

‘’This killer. He…He might be trying to find his own… particular set of skills,’’ Will says in a rush, and Jack’s eyes snap to his face. ‘’He might be looking for what works best, and then he’ll start his real work’’.

‘’You mean he’s warming up?’’

‘’Yes’’.

Jack curses under his breath.  Catching a serial killer is one thing, but catching a serial killer who is still perfecting his work is a completely different bag of cats. Will doesn’t want to stand around, he wants to go home. He doesn’t want to think about serial killers he can’t catch.

‘’You coming?’’ he hears Jack and nods, resigning himself for another day in the office.

His next session with Hannibal is not supposed to happen till Wednesday. Will knows Hannibal won’t be able to be his psychotherapist any longer. Their relationship cannot be seen as only professional, and if he doesn’t say something to Jack, the man will blow up about it. He doesn’t know what to say.

 ‘ _’Hey Jack, I am sleeping with Hannibal, but I’m normal I swear… ‘’_

He stops at a drive-thru and orders a burger, hearing Hannibal’s voice of concern in his head. If he has to survive a day in a mind of a killer, he’s at least going to do it on a full stomach. The burger tastes of cardboard, but it helps Will’s blood sugar. Damn Hannibal and his cooking, and his expensive ingredients.

The office is a buzz of activity, and Will immerses himself into the case till his phone rings several hours later. He’s mid-sentence, so has to silence the phone to finish his conversation. It’s time to go home, he thinks. It seems that his life has turned into a home-office-crime scene-office-home cycle, and it’s becoming tiresome. He hopes they catch this killer soon, and he can have days off as well.

He calls Hannibal from home, but gets no answer, so Will leaves him a message. After all, they are not attached to the hip, and Hannibal is a grown man who has a social life.  Unlike Will, who has no social life, and avoids social situations in the first place. There has been no time to talk about schedules and dinners, there simply has been no reason, and Will does not like to feel dependent on Hannibal as much as Hannibal might want him to be.

He sits on the porch with his dog pack, eating leftovers Hannibal has neatly stacked into his fridge. It’s a small gesture, but it makes Will feel appreciated. Hannibal cares. In his own way Hannibal has always cared, even if it hasn’t quite felt like it. Will grins. Hannibal is an exceptional being. He closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. The stag is there again, its face so close to Will’s own, he can feels the animal’s breath on his face.

‘’Hi….’’ Will murmurs and kisses the fur, allowing the magnificent animal to nuzzle his face gently.

It’s very hard to imagine, that the antlers could kill him. It wouldn’t take much for him to become mounted. But the stag is surprisingly gentle. Will blinks, at its gone, its warmth lingering on his skin. He feels content and happy. Happiness is something Will never takes for granted. He can’t. For years being called a freak behind his back, never fitting in, and not being able to hold down a relationship because of his empathy. Perhaps one of the reasons he and Hannibal fit together so well was because of that darkness that lingered around the older man. Will isn’t afraid of it anymore.

He sleeps peacefully that night and does not dream.

Will wakes up to his phone ringing, and it’s not Jack for a change. It’s Hannibal. Will’s brain is still foggy with sleep, and he almost misses the call entirely.

‘’Good morning, William,’’ Hannibal sounds serious, and that wakes the younger man up enough.

‘’Hi… sorry I missed you yesterday,’’ he sounds apologetic to his own ears.

‘’It’s all right, darling. I have to cancel our appointment this week. A colleague of mine reached out yesterday and asked me to come and consult on a case in New York’’.

‘’You’re going to New York?’’

‘’Unfortunately’’.

‘’When are you going to be back?’’

‘’Next week, I believe’’.

Will tries to suppress a sigh that is threatening to burst out, and no doubt, displease Hannibal. He is a highly sought after professional in his field. It comes with a price, and Will knows that it’s good for Hannibal to keep his professional engagements. Besides, if he was in Hannibal’s shoes, he would go to help a colleague. Hell, he helped Jack when the man appeared in his lecture hall.

‘’I will see you next week then,’’ he says, and resists the urge to simply hang up.

 _You’re not a teenager anymore, Will Graham…. You’re a grown man, and you have to act like a grown man._ His own mind is at war with his heightened emotions, and his brain is useless.

‘’Please look after yourself in my absence, Will. Call if you need to talk to someone’’.

‘’I’m sure I can keep myself occupied for a week. I still have a killer to catch. Are you driving?’’

‘’Yes, I have decided to drive. Mobility will help me shorten the traveling time between home and New York’’.

‘’Drive safely’’.

‘’I will’’.

He doesn’t quite know what else to say, so Hannibal says a goodbye for them both. He was really looking forward to their conversation. Perhaps Will depends on Hannibal just as much as Hannibal wants him to if not more. He realises that he’s started taking their meetings for granted. Hannibal is a good person to talk to, someone Will can vent to, and someone whose mind works at the same speed as his own. It hasn’t been conventional therapy in any sense.

There is nothing new on the case that day. Will keeps his head down and looks for clues and patterns. They question a couple of people who all point them into a direction of a man named Michael Kincade, a janitor in a local school. They wait another day before going to question him. At first he doesn’t want to go at all, but Jack insists.

He is a short and unpleasant man, and Will dislikes him immediately. He looks shifty, but neither agent can quite put their finger on why. He has an alibi for the last murder, but Will commits his face to memory just in case. He is hiding something. He is also their only suspect. His eyes look dead to Will. Empty, soulless pools of darkness which is closely guarded and unnoticeable to most people. But Will sees clearly that there is a beast just under the surface. He’s not a beautiful creature like Hannibal. He’s dark and distorted, and hungry.

He cannot really explain it to Jack, but for the rest of the day, those eyes don’t leave Will’s sub consciousness. He might not be their killer, but he is definitely something. However, because there is no evidence, no visible connection, there is nothing they can do apart from keep digging, and hope for the best. Jack is growing more and more irritated, and it has an effect on the mood in the lab.

Will resists the urge to text Hannibal. They work through the case for the next couple of days, all ideas still pointing to the janitor. But there is something missing from the puzzle, and Will finds himself being irritated that he can’t see it. He think about the killer and the shifting methods. There will be an escalation, there has to be.

Friday rolls around, and Will finds himself sitting at home with the tried and tested method for sleep – whiskey. He fishes his phone out from under the cushions and finally texts Hannibal.

_Hey. I hope your trip went well. Case is still on. I missed our ‘conversation’ this week. Hope yours is better than mine._

It’s almost strange to text Hannibal. A man who is so sophisticated, so different from most people Will has ever met. He’s dozed off when a text comes through an hour later.

_Good evening, Will. Apologies for not getting in touch with you earlier this week. The case over here turned out to be rather complex in its nature. I’m afraid I will not return till the end of next week._

Will sighs, shaking off sleep, and reaching for his drink before texting back.

_Only you could text like you were delivering a reception speech at the Oscars. I get it. We weirdos are tricky to deal with sometimes. I hope you at least keep yourself entertained._

Hannibal must have his phone with him, since the next text comes through quite soon.

_I have tickets to the Metropolitan this evening. My colleague is accompanying me. I shall bring you next time. And I dislike you calling yourself a ‘weirdo’._

Will frowns, ignoring the last bit completely. He wouldn’t have thought Hannibal would just bring anybody to a place like the Met. Not that Will can either protest, or have a reason to feel the pang of jealousy grip his soul. Not attached, right? Perhaps he is trying to convince himself.

_Well, enjoy the performance. I don’t know the first thing about opera, and you know how I am with social situations. I have a date with Jack Daniels._

He means it as a joke, but he can imagine Hannibal frowning on the other end. He ignores the phone when the older man calls a moment later, pretending he’s asleep. In reality, Will finishes the Jack Daniels bottle and passes out on the sofa. Maybe he’s a little petty, a little jealous, and a little desperate. But it’s one of those weeks when Will doesn’t care about social norms and constructs. He’s tired. He wants to solve the case. And he doesn’t want to think about Hannibal going to the opera with someone who is not Will. It’s almost like an itch under his skin, because his gut instinct is rarely wrong about something. He doesn’t always know how to translate it into words, though, and it gnaws at him.

He wakes up shaking and sweating from a night terror, and has to shower before crawling back under the covers. The rest of the night is restless, filled with dreams of shadow men, death and destruction. He remembers running after the stag in the dream, but being chased and held down my shadowy figures with no faces. He can never run quickly enough in his dreams, and the fear he feels is real. The next few hours Will sleeps and wakes up just enough to turn around and fall back into slumber, leaving his body more tired than the night before. He’ll feel sick in the morning, because the brain is working double time and going into an overload.  The feeling of dread and ‘something is not quite right’ sits at the base of his skull.

In the early morning hours, the dogs grow restless and worried. They move from room to room, and look at the windows, as if expecting something to happen. The woods around the house rustle, as if something or someone is moving through them. Will is blissfully unaware, but Winston whines at the front door. He can sense something moving around the house, but because Will is asleep, he cannot get out to investigate the strangeness in the air. A branch cracks, and the birds go silent for a moment.

The dogs have learned quickly to distinguish good and bad smells. Something that belongs around their house and what does not. The noises their hearing picks up are not meant to be there, and the pack arranges itself around Will sleeping on the sofa, so they can protect their human in case the unfamiliar something decides to come inside.

Will sleeps through two more calls from Hannibal, and only wakes up when Winston noses his face, licking his cheek to wake the human up. He must have been whimpering, otherwise the dogs never intervene. The agent feels tired and wrung out, nauseous from fatigue. He ignores Hannibal for the moment, brain still feeling a bit petty. Shower, dry toast, feed the dogs, let them out….

Simple things. One step at the time. His hearing picks up the quietness around the house. Maybe his imagination is now going into overdrive as well. Something is definitely out of order, but Will has no idea what it is. Dogs pile back inside, and Will casts one last glance around the woods. He feels as if something is watching him. Something or someone. Definitely an imagination overload. Bad dreams always lead him to be a little subdued the next day, a little on edge.

He doesn’t believe in the paranormal. There is always an explanation, but he doesn’t have time to think about such matters. He wants to prove that the janitor is their killer.


	6. The Uninvited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is something wrong. He knows it. But Will is confused over his own feelings and the sense of abandonment. He knows Hannibal cannot do it all. The case doesn't really help either.

The feeling of 'something is wrong' doesn't leave Will the whole of the morning while he tries to get over his hangover. He's nauseous and throws up twice before shuffling into another shower, trying to sober up. The alcohol level in his blood is definitely too high to drive, so he text Jack. He can work from home for a day. He deletes Hannibal's calls and doesn't open the other man's text messages. Hopefully the older man is going to have a busy day and will not have time to psychoanalyse Will or his brain that seems to be on fire.

Whatever progress towards feeling better he's made in the last few days has either stopped or even regressed, because he feels hot and clammy. Not quite here for being a human, but his brain is still working on the case. This is how he's always been. Functioning for work, pretending to be normal, but feeling like shit. He misses Hannibal already, and curses himself for his weakness. This battle between his head and his heart is really not helping. He hopes that the older man is fucking happy because he's clearly achieved his goal. Making Will dependent on himself was Hannibal's plan all along.

He works for a couple of hours and finally seems to have caught a lead. The janitor doesn't appear to really be who he says he is. Will sends Jack another text, asking him to check. Why would he kill in this way unless there is some serious underlying issues that have not be caught by workplace screening. Will doesn't really know how an entire team of investigators had missed details. They're tiny little things Will also remembers from their interview. The twitch, the look in his eyes. But it would just be a feeling if not for a nurse's statement. The man had gone to a doctor to fill a prescription and this fact had been buried so far under other paperwork, nobody had double-checked. He has also

Will, possibly better than anybody else, knows what it means to pretend to be normal. The agent pours over the case files till his vision goes blurry. Hannibal hasn't called, and Will is happy and disappointed at the same time. But he really has brought this upon himself. That doesn't help the doubt and insecurities. His relationship with Hannibal is still to new, too raw. There are too many unknowns.

He would never give up on it, but the experience Will has does not help him where relationships are concerned. He is awkward, a loner, and most of the time avoids people like plague. He doesn't have a lot of experience with relationship. Especially where one of the partners is as elegant and rich as Hannibal. The younger man doesn't really see how he could fit into Hannibal's life. He hates dinner parties, and has nothing in common with Hannibal's friends. There is no way he can afford the same kind of lifestyle or to match any of the things the older man is used to.

Besides, Hannibal is a grown man and can do whatever he wants. There simply hasn't been enough time for them to talk about this....whatever this is between them now. And Hannibal could kill Will in a snap, and the younger man wouldn't even know what hit him.

He makes up the fire and finds another bottle of Jack Daniels. Maybe the answers will lie in the bottom of the bottle. Drinking is his usual coping mechanism, and since there is nothing else, that is what he does. Maybe he shouldn't, but his on his own, so nobody will know, right? Winston lies down at his feet but doesn't look away from the door as if waiting for someone to come through. If he's waiting for Hannibal, Will will have to disappoint the poor pooch. Hannibal is in New York, working and going out with people he might be sleeping with. That coaxes a bitter laugh out of Will, and he recognises his own brain running in circles again.

By the time it's dark outside, Will is drunk. He's pleasantly buzzed, and doesn't even care about the case any more. He wants Hannibal to come home and not to be bothered by Jack for a few days while he attempts to feel normal. As normal as Will Graham can actually be.

His phone rings and Hannibal's name swims before his eyes. Annoyance strikes him, but it also makes him giggle. It's like Hannibal knows when to call to catch Will in a really bad moment. Maybe he deserves a little bit of reality. Knocking him off his high throne. Reality is not whatever it is in Hannibal land. It's more like what it is at Wolf Trap at this moment.

''Finally, William. I have been trying to reach you for hours,'' Hannibal sounds concerned and Will shrugs despite the fact that the other man cannot see him.

''I was ...you know... busy,'' he knows his voice doesn't quite follow the orders of his brain.

''Will, have you been drinking?'' Hannibal sounds almost alarmed.

''A little. I had another date,'' he giggles. ''While you're smooching your high end friends in New York''.

He can almost taste Hannibal's disapproving frown, but he's also too drunk to care.

''William. I'm coming home tomorrow. Please drink some water and have something to eat before bed or you will feel extremely sick tomorrow,'' the older man says, but Will is no mood to indulge the lecture.

He thinks he hears something outside and Winston starts to bark. That is quite alarming, since the dog is usually so calm. Will gets up and has to grab onto the mantle, since his legs almost give out and the room swerves.

''You're not here, what do you care? I think someone's at the door, so I'm going to put you down now''.

''William...''

He turns Hannibal off. Maybe it will come back to bite him in the ass, but Will is used to dealing with bridges when he comes to them. He goes to the door and opens it to let the barking bunch out, stepping out on the porch. The light is on, but his perception is not sharp whatsoever, so the agent just shrugs and turns to go back inside. That's when he hears it.

''Good evening, Mister Graham''.

Will turns around, but doesn't see whatever is going on, before there is a sharp pain in his temple and everything goes black.

 


	7. Homeward Bound

Will is floating. He feels like he's surrounded by fluffy white clouds. His body feels weightless and he has no idea what is going on. He tries to open his eyes, but it doesn't seem possible. There are distant voices, but the agent cannot make out what they are saying. He doesn't know whose voices they are either. The floating sensation is somewhat comfortable, so he just lets himself drift and everything turns black again.

Next time Will wakes up, it is to a very familiar beep of a hospital monitor. His hands and legs feel like they're filled with led, and his mouth feels full of sand. He tries to speak, but there is a tube in his throat.

''William,'' Hannibal's voice sounds relieved, and he squeezes Will's fingers. ''Don't try to speak, darling, let's get a nurse in here. Don't go back to sleep yet, all right?''

The younger man cannot nod but he struggles to keep his eyes open.

''Good morning, Will. It's good to see you awake. Your partner was quite worried,'' the nurse is blonde and pretty, but he doesn't really care. ''Your doctor will be here in a moment and we'll take the tube out''.

He wants to protest or say something, but can't, so the only thing to do is to wait. The doctor comes in, and Will forgets his name as soon as he says it. They remove the tube, and Hannibal hands Will a glass of water, helping him take a sip.

''Take it slowly, darling, don't rush,'' Hannibal's voice turns soothing and Will obeys, not having the energy to argue.

He feels exhausted still. Hannibal speaks to the doctor while Will drifts back to sleep. He has no idea what happened, or when Hannibal returned. He doesn't even know what day it is, but it must be a few days since they spoke, because the other man is here and not in New York.

Hannibal returns to his side and kisses Will's forehead.

''You scared me, Will. Sleep, darling, we'll talk when you wake up''.

He wants to tell Hannibal to go home, to get some rest or food, but his brain has already drifted back off to sleep. Will has no idea how long he's asleep, but next time his eyes flutter open, Hannibal is not in the room any more. He feels a pang, but his rational brain understands that eating and sleeping are essential things, and he's not entitled to feeling anything but gratitude of Hannibal being here in the first place.

He slowly sits up and reaches for the plastic cup of water on the bedside cabinet. His movements are slow and sluggish, but he feels better. His brain doesn't seem to be on fire any longer. The door opens and Hannibal walks through it, looking a little rough around the edges.

''You're awake,'' he offers Will a tired but happy smile, and it makes Will's heart constrict.

Whatever doubt he's felt, he knows he's in love. Utterly and completely. In love with a serial killer.

''Yes. I... I'm sorry,'' he looks down at his fingers, fidgeting, unsure.

Hannibal sits on the side of the bed and clasps his fingers.

''No, don't apologise. When Jack called I was packing to come home. I don't think I've ever been this frightened since my sister died''.

''What happened?'' he asks, almost afraid to hear the answer.

''Jack arrested the school janitor for the murders. He followed you home and hit you over the head with a hammer. Almost killed you. Thank god he's such a bad shot and you had so much alcohol in your system. It somehow kept you alive''.

Will shudders. He remembers drinking a lot in desperation.

''I had a feeling something was wrong. But I couldn't put my finger on it,'' he says. ''I was missing you so terribly, and...''

Hannibal silences him by pressing his lips to Will's in a soft kiss. The younger man is not quite sure whether he wants to laugh in relief or cry and ask for forgiveness.

''I know, darling. I know,'' Hannibal's voice is soothing and he rests their foreheads together and strokes Will's cheek. ''I'm just relieved that you are all right''.

Will nods, swallowing a lump in his throat. He wants to say something else, but the door opens again and this time it's the doctor whose name he doesn't remember.

''Mr. Graham. Glad to see you back with us. You sustained quite a head injury, so you'll have to take it very easy for a while. I am ready to actually discharge you since Doctor Lecter has offered to look after you. I've given him instructions and your new medication. It will clear up your other health issues as well,'' his smile is dashing and actually meant for Hannibal rather than for Will.

The younger agent just nods and feels relieved that he can leave. Hospitals don't agree with Will Graham. His senses are always overloaded when he's at a hospital. The smells and the sounds are always too much. However, the worst part of hospitals are the other patients. They often want to engage in idle chit-chat, and Will just cannot bear it. Hannibal exchanges more information while the nurse takes out the IV.

Once they're alone, Hannibal takes the younger man's hands into his to help him stand.

''Do you need to use the bathroom? You've been hooked onto a catheter they took out this morning. You were still kind of out of it, but the doctor deemed it safe''.

Will nods and Hannibal helps him to get to the bathroom slowly. The younger man doesn't even care if Hannibal lingers in the door. He's a doctor, he's seen it all anyway, and Will simply doesn't have the energy to be fussy. He washes his hands and splashes some water onto his face. He's still pale and his head hurts a little. It's not terrible, but he accepts Hannibal's steady hands that help him get back to bed and get slowly dressed. They don't talk while Will shuffles from the bed onto the wheelchair and gets pushed out of the hospital room, down the corridors and then outside into the bright sunshine.

Hannibal helps him into the Bentley, and Will sinks into the familiar seat, feeling relieved. The drive back to Hannibal's is quiet, Will is dozing in the passenger seat while Hannibal concentrates on the road and has a phone conversation with Jack. Will doesn't even hear most of it. Or his brain just tunes Jack out on purpose.

Hannibal's house hasn't changed since the last time Will was there, but it somehow feels alien. He follows its owner through the door and sinks down onto the sofa in the living room. Bending over to take off his shoes proves to be more of a challenge than Will thought. He feels winded and his headache returns after he's done that.

''Are you hungry?'' Hannibal asks, after handing him pills and a glass of orange juice.

Will shakes his head and sinks into the soft cushions.

''I've called a dog sitter, so your pack is taken care of,'' the older man says, kissing Will's forehead. ''I have to do some work, but I will be right here if you need anything, yes? You just rest, darling''.

Will is actually asleep before Hannibal finishes the sentence. He doesn't feel the older man cover him with a soft throw. He doesn't even stir when Hannibal moves him into a better position and makes sure Will doesn't choke in case he feels ill.

The move from the hospital to this environment is definitely going to speed up his recovery, but Hannibal knows how tricky head injuries can be. He's just glad Will is all right and in one piece. He's expressed his anger at the circumstances openly to Jack, and the normally stoic agent could only nod. Both men were angry even if the man responsible was behind bars. Hannibal wishes he could kill him. Slowly. Inch by slow inch, and watch his life drain away.

Hannibal works on his own cases, sitting in an armchair near Will, eyes drifting back to his younger lover every now and then to make sure he's still breathing.

When he'd received Jack's phone call of Will's condition, his blood had run cold. Their interaction the past few days had left him dissatisfied and almost angry. However, the case in New York had benefited from Hannibal's advice and involvement, and the opera had been splendid. The company – not so much. Not hearing from Will the next day had left him concerned, and then to finally reach him in a state of drunkenness, picking apart the nuances of his tone... Hannibal could hear the sadness and the loneliness, and the desperation. Damn his work and damn Jack Crawford.

Hannibal knows he's in love with Will. Their relationship had just made its first steps before they were both whisked away in different directions, and both of their insecurities never got addressed. Now they will have time and Hannibal hopes that there is not too much damage.

He wants desperately to kill the son of a bitch who dared lay hands on his lover. However, since that is not possible under the current circumstances, he settles for watching over Will and hoping they can take time to heal and talk when the younger man is feeling more himself.

 


End file.
